Nothing Poem by Marcel Aouizerate

It was nothing but a freckle in the eye,
Nothing but the name of a friend,
Which
Escaped memory for a second.

It was nothing but a dizziness
At dawn, it would pass
With breakfast.

It was
No more than an irregularity
In the frequency of the heart.

It was
Nothing else than a
Lump in the throat.

It
Was
Open sesame

For damp footsteps left
By savage beasts
Under the hospital bed.

They tore off the eye
And the jowl
Leaving a sucking pain.

Those beasts

Bamboozling and barging
In the memory like unclean boars
In a white china shop.

Those hyenas

In wild cavalcades
After the lone runner
With a fragile heart.

It was them all right
As they camouflaged in doctor’s
Appointments and healthy food.

It was them sought out
By the ingenuity
Of men.

Because some of us would rather think
There was some
Ill will.

And it would be
Will against will
And we would

Prevail, being
Not nothing
For a while,

Flat against the many
Many
Hues of nothing.